


Let No Man Steal Your Thyme

by hernameisnotknown



Series: Wend Lavellan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:00:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hernameisnotknown/pseuds/hernameisnotknown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place shortly after the Fade kiss, before Adamant and Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts, and obviously before Wend’s gotten Cullen to finally kiss. her. DAMN. LIPS. (Note: Alistair’s reaction to Wend will be explained in a future work.) (Also, Cullen’s gaydar is nonexistant, and it’s only after he and Wend become close that she quells his fears on that account, so he’s a bit wary of the relationship between her and Dorian as of yet.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let No Man Steal Your Thyme

“Well,” Solas said, pushing away from the table, “the night isn’t endless, and I’d like to snatch up a piece of it before it vanishes altogether.” In reality, being this close to her - listening to her laugh, her incisive banter - was starting to get to him. If he wasn’t careful, walking away would be the least of his problems.

Wend watched him as he went, a frown flickering across her face too quickly for all but the most perceptive among them to notice. It had been a few days since they had both agreed it was best to stay friends, but the memory of their time in the Fade still crept within her like a predator seeking it’s prey. She had made a vow to herself, however, that she would never be the one to give chase. If he was still unsure after a kiss like that, then… she shook her head, setting down her mug.

“Maybe… maybe he’s right.” The rest of them groaned loudly as Bull let out deafening _‘BOOOO!!’_ She shrugged, crossing her arms. “Well? Varric seems to have exhausted his supply of stories, anyway.”

“Oh!” Varric feigned hurt before pointing a finger at her, “You know, _you_ could try entertaining us for a while, Wendy. After all it isn’t my _job_.”

Wend cocked an eyebrow, then stood up as if to follow Solas, surprising them all when she stopped hesitantly near Maryden instead. Back still turned to them, a song, half-remembered, suddenly poured out of her, one she had learned long ago…

_“Come all you fair and tender girls, that flourish in your prime…”_

Outside, Solas stopped in his tracks, a jolt passing through him like the lightning that often arced from his fingertips. He closed his eyes with a sigh, defeated, and decided without a second thought that this was a risk worth taking. He turned and made his way to the threshold, pausing in the shadows, seeing only her.

_“For when your time, it is passed and gone, he’ll care no more you…”_

Inside, Cullen stared at her back, at the way her hair wound it’s way from her temple to her neck, and back over the other shoulder in a braided trail of silver. She had picked up Maryden’s lute and began to softly strum it. His heart skipped as she turned to face them and her voice picked up, a realisation dawning as she continued. He knew this song. He sat, enthralled, trying to remember the verses.

_“And every place where your thyme was waste…”_

A moment passed, and his mouth shocked him by opening, softly singing a few of the words. Not everyone noticed at first, but she did. Her eyebrows rose slightly in bewilderment, but the way her lips curved into a hint of smile as she sang invited him to continue, and before he could stop himself he was singing again, this time more loudly.

_“The pink, the blue, and the violet true, and the red, red rosy tree…”_

His voice wound around hers and through it, harmonising. It almost failed him once, and he quickly cleared his throat, hoping no one had noticed. Sera chuckled from the corner, glancing at them both, but something in the sparkle of her eyes made him think she wasn’t laughing in a mean-spirited way. In fact, as he looked around at the others: Cassandra, leaning against a pillar and occasionally peering at him a little too keenly, the Iron Bull and his Chargers, sitting at and on the bar, stilling their typically raucous activities for a time, Varric, at the table, cards still in hand as he faced off against Josephine and Leliana, all whose eyes had risen from their game for a moment that provided the perfect distraction for an opportunistic cheater; Cole, a level up but perched precariously on the banister for a better vantage, Blackwall, mug forgotten, half-raised to his lips as he leaned against the wall, Dorian and Vivienne, both who had abandoned the chess game they were too proud to lose to each other at the first fortuitous opening - they all seemed equally enraptured. Even Alistair, sat beside him, who had been with them so briefly, who acted strangely around her, blushing and stuttering as if he wished to woo her when Cullen _knew_ his love lie elsewhere- Alistair, who inexplicably avoided her altogether whenever possible- seemed bewitched. This was their Inquisitor, and she never stopped surprising them.

_“But I refused the red rose bush, and gained the willow tree…”_

But… that wasn’t it. They were all looking at him too, at… the two of them… together. He swallowed, pulse quickening, and looked back at her. She was like a beacon, an anchor, and if he looked away, he knew he would falter. She had shown an interest in him, sure, an interest he had been careful not to read into. Certainly she had simply been curious, not actually… _interested,_ he reasoned. There was no way she could be- could she? As if in response to his gaze, her eyes flicked up, catching onto his as their words slowed over the final line.

_“…How my love slighted me.”_

Her eyes were still locked to his as the last echoes of the lute strings faded, quickly replaced by whoops and scattered applause. Breaking the connection, she glanced about the room with a smile, dipping her head in a bow, gesturing for him to do the same.

He raised his hands, head shaking, “No, no I-”

“Take a bow, Commander!” Bull ordered, nearly knocking the wind out of him with a mighty clap to the back.

“If you insist…” Cullen replied, sketching a bow too stiff and formal for the occasion. He stood up, hand rising as it often did to nervously rub the back of his neck. What was with all the singing in his life lately anyway? Ever since she came along, it seemed as if they couldn’t get by a week without breaking out in verses. She was clearly trouble. Yet he couldn’t help that his eyes drifted around the room, seeking her, or the smile that overcame his lips when they found her. She was the eye of a hurricane, mouth stretching in a laugh as she returned the lute to it’s rightful owner. He could just hear the bard enthusiastically complimenting her, telling her that she ought to sing for them all more often.

“It would do the troops a world of good, I’m sure of it.”

“But, Maryden, we have _you._ ”

“You think I’m _half_ as exciting, my lady?” Maryden shook her head, “Trust me, they’ll want to see you.”

“I can confirm that, Inquisitor.” Cullen added, approaching with an ease he didn’t feel.

“Can you?” Wend asked, her voice lilting over the words in a way that made him recall their first meeting. As she turned toward him now, the same compulsion overcame him, to pull her close, to crush her into a kiss- but now even stronger, coloured as it was by the depths of the knowledge he had gained of her character.

“Yes, well, I- I know _I’d_ want to see more of you-” he blanched, fire rushing to his cheeks so quickly he gasped, sure that the whole room could warm themselves with the heat of his face alone, “if- I- what I mean to say is-”

Wend laughed, and the touch of her hand on his arm grounded him. “I know what you mean. And,” she added in a different tone, “my name is Wend.”

 _Wend._ He found his lips forming the word, soundlessly. She was smiling up at him. He could feel it, like the sun’s rays, and even though his cheeks felt bright with colour, he couldn’t stop himself from relishing her attention. His eyes once again met hers, and for a second that seemed to stretch between them, he thought he might finally do it. He might finally- and then Dorian swept her up into his arms.

“You might have told me you could sing!” The mage exclaimed, “Having to find out like _this_ , amongst all this _unrefined rabble_!” His tone was playful, clearly insincere in it’s implied disdain, but Cullen hadn’t decided how he felt about the Tevinter yet- “And you!” Dorian’s hand came down hard on his shoulder. “Well, that was definitely singing I heard from you as well. I think.” _Yeah_ , he wasn’t overly fond of him... and yet Wend was chuckling, and it was such a beautiful sound.

“I really _am_ tired,” Wend said with a stretch as a yawn overcame her. “Goodnight!” She shouted to the crowd, which had been reinvigorated by the performance. “Goodnight,” she said, more softly, to him.

“Sweet dreams… _Wend._ ” As his reward, another sliver of smile.

She turned to leave, but stopped short only a step away. Cullen looked at her, then followed her gaze as she coughed to cover her hesitation. Solas was there, at the door to the tavern, hands lifting to clap as she approached him.

“You have the most… _alluring_ voice.”

“I thought you’d left,” Wend remarked, and now it was her turn to blush. Why was it he could flirt with abandon, but the moment something _more_ came up, retreated? She just couldn’t abide the hot and cold of it, but yet… When she looked at him…

“I had, of course. But the moment I heard your voice, I found myself turning back.” He stepped to her side, blocking Cullen from view. He knew it was foolish to be jealous, he knew he had a duty, that this could never work, and yet something about this woman, this marvel, bade him ignore all of that, even if only for this moment. He extended his arm to her. “Were you going back? Allow me to walk you.”


End file.
